


And Truth Was Spoken

by GermanShepherd



Category: To the Ends of the Earth - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Sex, fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermanShepherd/pseuds/GermanShepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of the ending. Benét dies in command of the ship, Charles is stuck in Australia waiting for a new command, and Edmund is stuck without a confirmed position. In which Edmund and Charles reveal their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Truth Was Spoken

**Author's Note:**

> Woopwoop have some more Summers and Talbot. Favourite ship ever. Also I haven't read the last two books yet so forgive me for any canon errors.

The smoke was already billowing from her mast before anyone noticed she was in difficulty.

By the time Charles Summers reached the dock, there was a considerable gathering of people watching the flames spring up along her deck. Without thinking clearly, he rushed forward, looking for a jolly boat or some other means to get to the ship, but the wiry hands of a friend grasped his arms from behind.

“Charles, you must stay here.”

“Captain Benét is still aboard!”

“You will be killed; it is too late to help him. He will choose to go down with his ship, will he not? That is what’s done in the Navy, yes?”

Charles relaxed somewhat and took half a step backwards. The fire was too far-gone to get to the ship in time. And Benét would refuse any help offered him. Charles knew he would have done the same.

“Anyway it is his own fire,” Edmund added.

“Edmund!”

“It is the truth.”

They looked out over the cove where the ship began to crumble into the water, burning down to the waterline. A ship aflame was wrong. No matter how run-down or ungainly the vessel, the sight was always distressing to a seaman.

~

“It was wrong of him to accept command as he did,” Edmund said. “It was a display of arrogance.”

They stood on the edge of the veranda at Government House. From where they were, they could see every inch of land down to the wharf. It had been a week since the ship had sunk and Edmund had not spoken a word about it, but now, for some reason, he decided to speak up. Maybe he had been waiting for Charles to work out his distress at its sinking. In truth Charles had been less affected by Benét’s death than by the demise of the vessel itself. Men died in the service. It was nothing unusual. But somewhere inside he felt some satisfaction. Was that inhuman? It was Benét’s own fire, after all. The man’s arrogance had been the end of him.

This was not a sentiment he would freely share.

“A promotion generally goes to the first lieutenant, yes,” he said evenly.

“By all rights, he should have declined and suggested you for the post.” Edmund shifted his weight, and his mouth twitched in a way that said he was about to go out on a limb. “I am glad the man was so conceited.”

Charles looked at him.

“Or it would have been you on that ship, Charles.”

“He died a commander.” A breeze wrapped around their shoulders. “I am ashore, during peacetime, without a ship.”

“But you are alive.”

What was that to a naval officer? A naval officer on land was hardly alive. It was not something a landsman could easily understand. Charles studied Edmund. The man had come to Australia with his future bright in his eyes – too bright, really – and had arrived to discover that his godfather, his connection to high places, had perished. Edmund’s future was far from bright now, but still he got up early every morning and did what work he could. And now he pointed out to Charles that all was not lost. From Edmund’s perspective it was better to be alive with no position than to be a captain at the bottom of the harbour with the skeleton of a wreck. Perhaps he was right.

“Besides, I have put in a word to the Admiralty, as I said I would.” Edmund put a hand on Charles’ shoulder and looked him in the eye. “They would be mad not to consider you.”

Charles couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “Thank you,” he replied softly. He was not sure he deserved such a friend.

~

Two days later, Charles was pacing up and down the halls of Government House, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes cast downwards. Someone who had served under him and who had not known him personally might have seen a man pacing in agitation; they would have seen a perturbed officer who was better left alone; but Edmund noticed the subtle signs indicating Charles was trying to contain himself, and he could tell that a spell of excitement had come over his friend.

“Charles, what has happened?”

Charles spun around and met Edmund’s eyes; a rare grin spread across his face and Edmund felt an equally rare warmth grow in his heart.

“I have spoken to the man from the Admiralty,” Charles said. “He tells me there is a ship coming from England, an old man-of-war, and when it offloads its cargo here it is to be my command!” He closed the distance between them and grasped Edmund’s shoulders. “I have a command, Edmund! And it would not have happened had you not put a good word in!”

Edmund smiled a sideways grin and looked at his feet. He was sure he was blushing, as he hadn’t done since he was a schoolboy. “I am sure you was promoted on your merits alone, Charles.”

Charles caught his eye again. “No, Edmund. It is peacetime, and I am not a nobleman. I have you to thank for this.” He let go of Edmund and stepped back, remembering himself. “How can I thank you? I have nothing to offer you.”

Edmund opened and closed his mouth awkwardly. “Come to dinner with me. Here, at Government House.”

“What? No, I couldn’t possibly; I am not a government man.”

“Nonsense, man, you are a gentleman officer. And there is hardly anyone around here. No one will mind, and it would do me well to have some company.”

There was a weighty moment, then Charles nodded curtly. “I leave the judgment to you, Edmund.” They stood there in the hallway, at ease. “I shall see you later.”

“Yes,” Edmund said, louder than he intended, as Charles turned and strode down the hall. The man lumbered, really, but in a fluid, light-footed way. Charles was so different from himself, he thought, physically and otherwise. The seaman was well-built, and sturdy, and Edmund found himself thinking thoughts that had previously come to him only in the dark of the passenger deck. He didn’t know how exactly he had stopped thinking of the ship’s first lieutenant as a figure to exploit and had started noticing the sensitive man underneath the uniform – but now he felt foolish and defenceless, taking notice of his every expression and word.

~

The supper itself was a definite change from naval fare, which Edmund had never quite gotten used to. The company, aside from Charles, was made up of the Admiralty officer’s assistant, a few clerks, and other faces Edmund had not quite gotten to know. Edmund spoke frequently to get the conversation and wine flowing; Charles spoke little. He spoke even less when the topic at hand veered to class matters. The men at the table carried on loosely with their opinions, and Edmund could see his navy guest becoming more and more uncomfortable. He changed the subject as best he could for Charles’ sake.

It was these men working in Government House whom Edmund would have to ingratiate himself with, no matter what he thought of their views. He had to agree with them at times. He found that his outlook had changed quite a bit since his journey to this southern land, and these men, familiar though their niceties and formalities were, now seemed somewhat false. The newfound sense of reality irritated him.

Still he appreciated the company of men who could understand administrative matters and he found himself sorry to retire when the energy of the evening faded. He had busied himself at the desk in his private chambers for a quarter of an hour before there was a knock at the door.

“Come,” he called, and Mr Summers opened the door wide, a question mark on his face. “Charles, come in, please.”

He approached the desk, where Edmund still bent his head, and regarded his work vaguely.

“How long before your vessel arrives at Sydney Cove?” asked Edmund.

“Three months.”

Edmund grunted. “Well, I can’t have a sea captain staying in the common hotel. You shall take rooms here in Government House. They are empty enough.”

Charles leant gently against the side of Edmund’s desk and watched him write. The quill’s pleasant scratching filled the room for some minutes before Charles began to fidget and spoke again.

“What you said this evening. About the aristocracy and the ‘dregs of society’. Do you really believe that commoners are inferior to all others? That a man cannot change the course of his fate?”

“Of course not. You and I have spoken about this in depth. Months ago I would have said so, yes, but I have since learned.”

“If you do not believe it, why do you say it?”

“It is politics, Charles. I am in a position where it is usual, and expected of me, to hold such opinions. It is advantageous to capitalise on whatever benefits these opinions might yield, when allies might be had.”

“You are not required to say such things?”

“No. But I do because it is useful.”

A cloud passed over Charles’ brow. “You mean convenient.”

“Good God!” He threw his quill down and looked up. “I do not understand why you are so opposed to this! It is not as if you are the politician. You may have whatever morals you like, but I have a job to do and I do not have the luxury.”

“Is that how you see morals? As a luxury?”

Edmund blinked his eyes indignantly. “Why, yes! Sometimes they must be put aside!”

There was an unusual fire burning in Charles’ eyes when he glared at Edmund. “I did not think you were truly the kind of man to betray your principles for some little political gain.”

“Well, at least you acknowledge now that I have principles.”

Charles was out of the room in a few long strides. Edmund hated to see him leave. He hated even more that he had caused those shoulders to hunch in vexation, that he was the cause of that quiet, angry huff when the door closed. Most of all, he was sorry that he could never afford to be as upstanding as Charles, that steadfast, just officer. He envied that luxury. Edmund was a politician; he had superiors to answer to. There was simply no way.

~

It made him angry. These things had always made him angry. It was one of the reasons he took such refuge in the Navy, where promotion was always based at least a little on merit, not just social standing. Without his uniform, he was common; in the service, he was distanced from the judgment and ridiculous social expectations of society on land.

The class structure was something everyone struggled with all their lives, of course. He’d had to reform his accent and his manners to become a proper officer, and he’d had to suffer aristocratic fools in the service, like Lieutenant Deverel and noble midshipmen who didn’t know fore from aft. Edmund had seemed one of those aristocratic fools at first. Perhaps he had been, but Charles had seen a glimmer of integrity in the boy. It bothered him now that that integrity seemed to have waned since they landed.

The waves of the sea calmed him and the soft sand underboot focused his thoughts. Had that integrity, in fact, waned? Edmund admitted that he no longer thought that a man’s class branded him. It was just that Edmund didn’t – couldn’t, even – act according to that opinion.

Charles reflected on his time under various captains. He had often been in a position that forced him to act contrary to his honour and keep quiet about it. There were always men to answer to. Even Captain Anderson had prevented Charles from acting as he thought best on numerous occasions; the pitiful image of the Reverend Colley’s hazing on the weather deck was still painful, as was the memory of having to stand by and let it happen.

He pushed his boot into a round, flat shell in the sand. He had only let the incident go so far, having been able to stop it by firing Prettiman’s gun. At risk to himself, he admitted. He could have been disrated any number of times.

Maybe he couldn’t expect other men to take such risks regularly. Edmund, too, had superiors to answer to.

Charles removed his hat and set himself gently on the sand. He sighed into the still day.

Edmund. The boy had changed so much since they had first acquainted themselves months ago. He had become a man since then. He had gained a sense of the hardness of the world. But, wonderfully, he had retained his uncomplicated lightness of life, that sense of hope and certainty that everything would be all right. It was easy, as his future had been set out before him. Edmund still had his easy, complete smile, and his lively disposition.

The breeze picked up and his thoughts turned to Edmund’s more visible characteristics. That wonderful, flawless skin. Fine-boned, delicate features. A full mouth and sloping jaw. Charles had never been drawn to effeminate men, and though Edmund was not broad or rough, he was decidedly masculine; perhaps he was a living example of the ideal youth, brimming with life and energy and strength.

There was no risking revealing himself to Edmund. It could not be done. It would not be done. It seemed improper, somehow, to show that layer of himself if Edmund could not reciprocate. Selfish, to confess to Edmund his inner life, his inner desires, which Edmund couldn’t possibly share. It would be infringing on their friendship. No, it was much better to live in the safe space they already had: close, but not close enough to be treacherous.

They would never be together. There was some bright young woman in Edmund’s future – perhaps he had already met her in Marion. He had likely known all sorts of women, and likely had no regard for men. Least of all a weatherworn officer. They were the same age, perhaps there was some hope, Charles thought; but then, what was he next to youthful, charming, alabaster Marion Chumley?

He resisted the urge to throw his bicorn into the sea. It was his only hat apart from that of his formal uniform; he could hardly afford to replace it now, on his pay, with no prize money.

No chance at all.

 

~

 

It was late afternoon when Charles returned from the beach. In a much-improved mood, he stepped briskly through a hall of Government House looking for Edmund. He found him standing at a balcony of sorts open to the harsh Australian sunlight. Edmund stared out at the water, frowning. Charles slowed and approached him delicately so as not to jolt him out of his reverie.

“I have been thinking, Edmund,” he said in a low voice. “I should apologise for my harsh words last night.”

“I can see that I was wrong.”

“What about?”

“About not being able to discuss philosophy with you.”

Charles restrained an involuntary smile. “It was hardly philosophy.”

“No, Charles, I have underestimated you again. You were right; I should not be so easily swayed by the winds of opportunity.”

“I understand that your work requires it. You have superiors who expect certain things of you.” He leant with both hands on the balcony handrail. “I would never expect you to jeopardise your position – unless it were a truly grave situation.”

Edmund stepped closer. “I suppose you would say I should ‘choose my battles’.”

Charles smiled. “Just so.”

“We seem to share a mind, Charles.”

He looked up at Edmund inquisitively.

“I came to the same conclusion as you did.”

Charles nodded. Edmund leant on the rail with both hands, so close beside Charles that their hands were touching; when he looked up he was faced with fervent eyes. Edmund leaned in closer and they were drawn together, two magnetic opposites. It was a thoughtless moment: Edmund pressed his mouth to Charles’, they both closed their eyes, Charles pressed back, and then they were apart. 

Within a fraction of a second, unspoken volumes passed between them; they turned to face each other and Charles claimed Edmund’s mouth. They gripped each other; lightning struck them both and they sprang apart, gasping.

“Charles,” Edmund breathed, and grasped at his jacket.

“I hope we were not seen,” said Charles, glancing around surreptitiously.

“There is no one here!”

He was met with a pained gaze, then Charles spun on his heels and marched away from the balcony, away, somewhere too far away from Edmund.

What did that mean? What did all of that mean? Was that regret he saw in those dark eyes? Had Edmund marred their already mercurial friendship? He stared in confusion after Charles – broad-shouldered, tawny-skinned, weather-handed Charles. He had kissed him back, had he not?

~

Edmund spent that evening at dinner fidgeting in doubt and uncertainty. He took little notice of his guests except for the gaping vacancy at the table where Charles should have been. It was a dangerous risk he had taken, and he had known it, and he cursed himself for taking it anyway. He could not bear to think what it would be like to lose his closest friend. It was bad enough that Charles was leaving Australia in two months’ time – but the thought of spending that time without his company, pushed away by Edmund’s blunder, was tortuous.

His dinner companions sensed his distraction and retired early. Like most nights, Edmund went to his desk and picked up his quill to write, but found he could only stare at the parchment through swimming eyes. The sound of a doorknock came to him distantly. Before he could speak, Charles entered the room. He had taken off his jacket and stood there in his waistcoat and billowing shirtsleeves.

Edmund put down his quill and stood up, trying to look at Charles squarely.

“Did you mean to, Edmund?” He asked in such a soft voice that Edmund thought he might collapse – with shame, with regret, with desire.

“Did I mean to what?”

“Did you mean it when we kissed?”

There was no going back now. If he had learned one thing from Charles, it was to remain staunch when faced with conflict. “I meant it, Charles. I meant every second of it.” He stepped closer to Charles and swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eye. “I am sorry if…” – he heaved a breath – “if I transgressed your bounds.”

He found his chin lifted by Charles’ hand. “Never.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I hardly dared believe it was real.” Relief and hope washed over Edmund. Charles brushed his lips against Edmund’s, sweetly, and Edmund came alive in his arms. They embraced each other tightly.

“I have wanted for some time, but I could bear it no more,” said Edmund as he wound his fingers in Charles’ hair. They breathed together.

“How long?”

Edmund worked his way down his neck; a desirous growl formed deep in Charles’ throat and Edmund sighed at his jaw. “Sometime after Colley’s death.” Charles’ hand stroked the back of Edmund’s head, but he held himself back. Edmund sensed his hesitancy.

“Charles,” he purred, hovering at his lips, “it’s all right.”

With that permission, Charles claimed his mouth. Muscular arms closed around Edmund’s narrow shoulders and pushed him hard against the wall. Edmund felt everything quiver and relax simultaneously as Charles was everywhere, lips at his temple, his ear, his jaw, his mouth, frantic and impassioned. “Edmund,” he murmured between kisses. “Edmund.”

“I know,” Edmund replied breathlessly. His hands gripped Charles’ shoulders, firm and broad, and followed his body downwards, lingering on his belly, which trembled with irregular breaths. He wrapped his arms around Charles’ hips and pulled him flush against his own body, making them both gasp. Their legs twined together perfectly, leaving them hip against hip, separated only by fabric. Charles leant into him and Edmund found himself pushing back. The feeling was a thrill of sensation for them both, a rush to raw, vulnerable nerves, and they cried out together. Hands grew urgent and pulled at trouser fasteners.

“Charles, wait.”

Warm eyes regarded him with concern.

“I have not done this before. With a man.”

Charles caressed the hair above Edmund’s ear. “There have never been women for me,” he said distractedly.

“You…really?”

He nodded.

“I am just frightened. I don’t want to – “

Charles’ face twisted fearfully and he began to pull away; Edmund grasped his shirt in panic to bring him back. 

“No, Charles, I want to, good God, I want to, but…not tonight.”

Understanding grew in those eyes and he placed a hand on Edmund’s cheek. “I will always wait for you,” he said.

The words were a salve to turbulent emotions. The impossible had occurred. How could it be, Edmund asked himself, that he was standing here twined with a man whom he called his best friend, something more, and that those feelings should be returned?

Self-consciously Charles took his hand away and pivoted from Edmund to leave the room.

“Wait, Charles!” He caught Charles’ hand and the man turned his head. A gut-wrenching look of fragility was on that face. “Stay,” Edmund whispered. “Stay.”

Soon they lay alongside one another in their shirts, Edmund on his side, Charles behind him. The warmth of their bodies combined and brought them the drowsy mantle of sleep.

“How long have you wanted this?” asked Edmund.

“Since the first word you spoke to me.” Charles wound a hand around Edmund’s waist and nestled closer behind him. Edmund exhaled in contentment. It was not long before his breaths became deep and even in sleep.

“Since the first,” Charles whispered after a while.

There had been a chance, after all.

~

They spent the next month in lazy days. Edmund would complete whatever work he had in the mornings before meeting Charles at the wharf. Most days they would walk up and down the beach before noon, then spend a few long hours at luncheon. In the evenings they sat in the library at Government House or in Edmund’s office. Edmund read aloud from Plato or other Greeks. Charles tried to teach him navigation. It was as much as they could do to immerse the other in their respective worlds.

One misty forenoon, they sat in the beach grass and sand, watching the waves grow larger and larger as the wind picked up. Charles was turning over a sentence from the previous night’s Plato in his head, and Edmund was remembering how to use a sextant. The ceaseless waves were conducive to thought, and the two men drifted further and further away from their original musings. They were somewhere up high, almost outside of themselves in vague contemplation.

“I wonder where Marion is now,” Edmund thought out loud.

Charles came crashing down from the atmosphere. “India, no doubt,” he said stiffly.

“I wonder what she is doing.”

“You are still thinking of her?”

Of course, Edmund thought. He was talking about her, wasn’t he? Of course he was thinking about her. “Yes. She left an impression on me.”

“Do you wish you were with her now?”

“What? No. Charles, no.”

What a question to ask. Charles had sounded bitter, or cool. Edmund looked at him staring out over the water still with his jaw set. Could he be jealous? Of a woman who was on another continent entirely?

The waves allow them to float up into the sky again, but not as high as before. 

“I believe I am ready,” said Edmund after a while. “Tonight. I want to sleep together.”

Charles turned his head and all trace of ill-feeling was gone. His eyebrows were raised slightly. “Are you certain?”

Edmund nodded.

“Sir,” Charles said, a knuckle to his forehead, and grinned. Edmund couldn’t help but smile back.

~

That evening at dinner, they were in their own little world. Edmund’s usual guests prattled on, as they did, and he hardly heard them. He and Charles were too caught up making eyes at each other and trying not to grin too broadly. Their relationship would have been obvious had not the guests been so absorbed. For once, Edmund was glad these government men were so self-centred.

They went to their respective chambers separately to preserve appearances, but it was hardly ten minutes before Charles entered Edmund’s room. He stood against the closed door, hands behind him on the door handle.

“Are you still certain?”

Edmund leapt up from his desk and fell on Charles in an embrace. He nuzzled the sailor’s neck and whispered assent in his ear. They kissed; tenderly at first, as they were completely in control of their actions; then they grew feverish and a haze fell over their brains. Edmund felt heat grow in his loins and began to pant – like a milkmaid, he thought, but he was too distracted to be embarrassed – and then he was half-walking, half-falling in the direction of the bed. Somehow Charles was lifting him and he felt himself fall and bounce on the mattress. Charles was above him, smiling.

Edmund’s fingers undid the buttons of Charles’ waistcoat and yanked off his shirt. “Oh, God,” Edmund sighed. This wide chest with sparse hairs and curved muscles. Edmund’s hands roamed all over exposed skin. Charles was so beautiful: his body, his gentle face, his kind eyes, his joyfully curving mouth. Unable to think, Edmund leaned up and kissed him; then they were undressing each other wantonly.

The less Edmund wore, the further down his body Charles’ hands went. They moved slowly, always asking permission, which Edmund gave by arching into Charles almost imperceptibly. A finger lay above the cleft of his bottom; with a slight bend of his leg, Edmund assented. Charles’ fingers slid down the cleft and his fingertips came to rest on the sensitive, fleshy round of Edmund’s entrance. A whimper came out of Edmund’s mouth. He had never heard himself make that sound before.

Their tongues explored the inside of each other’s mouths. To taste him was a privilege, an absolutely forbidden fruit, because how was it possible that such uncommon love could be requited? In what perfect world would he return this affection?

Charles sighed Edmund’s name all over his body: at his neck, his collarbones, around a nipple, onto a quivering stomach. Edmund’s skin was soft under his hands and the scent of him was comforting. He was warm, wonderfully alive and warm; Charles felt that invigorating warmth surge through him and he tried to communicate with his lips his gratitude.

A hand gripped Charles’ shoulder and he looked up at a flushed face and half-lidded eyes. “May I?” he asked. Edmund nodded.

Slowly he pushed a finger inside Edmund and received a gasp of surprise; Edmund had never experienced this before and Charles would have to be gentle. He worked in and out until he no longer felt Edmund shudder underneath him, then added another finger. Edmund’s hands tightened over Charles’ shoulders and he arched back into the bed, hyper-sensitive to the unfamiliar touch. Charles captured Edmund’s panting breaths under his lips. Electricity reverberated between them and they let it course through their bodies as one.

Edmund opened his eyes wide and communicated in just one look. Charles removed his fingers gently and laid a hand on Edmund’s buttock, pushing to tell him to turn over. Edmund got on all fours. His head hung down towards the bed. His back heaved with deep breaths. Charles laid his hands on Edmund’s cheeks, pressing and kneading lightly to comfort.

“I shall have to use saliva; is that all right?” he asked softly.

“Of course it is,” Edmund growled.

When Charles entered him, a breathy moan escaped Edmund’s lips and Charles’ heart nearly broke at the sight of this beautiful man beneath him, lean and pale and sincere. He bent over Edmund’s back and eased into him slowly, slowly, a hair’s breadth at a time. A groan came from his own mouth as heat surrounded him.

“All right?” he asked.

“Yes,” came the answer. Charles planted a kiss on Edmund’s shoulder blade and took his length in his hand. Edmund’s hips bucked against him. Charles tried to control himself, exposed to such ridiculous beauty as he was, and thrust slowly in and out of perfection. They fell into an inexorable rhythm.

They breathed together, and pushed into and against one another, and worked their way through a warm void where they were the only people in creation – until they felt themselves unite, and the night heard them cry out.

~

At some point in the morning they drifted into wakefulness. Edmund’s head rested on Charles’ chest, rising and falling with slow breaths. After some time Charles rose and padded over to the window to look out over the water, visible from Edmund’s room. Edmund lay under the tangled, strangled, mangled sheets and watched him. He smiled in happiness at that stark naked body, smiled that he had known this man completely and utterly. It was a dream, surely it was all a dream, too wonderful and exciting for reality.

He disentangled himself from the bed and stood at Charles’ side by the window. The man seemed mired in thoughts; his brow was creased ever so slightly and Edmund’s question was answered before he could even ask it.

“Would you marry her, if she came here?” Charles asked.

Edmund thought a long while before answering. “Yes, I suppose I would.”

“I see.”

“It is good for appearances for a politician to have a wife. And she has no one else here in Australia. There is also the matter of – “

“I know where you stand; you have said enough.”

“No, Charles, I don’t think I have. You are not second to her. In fact, you are second to none. You asked me if I would marry her, and I answered; a man cannot stay unattached forever. But it is not out of love, or at least not the kind of relation you and I have. I was concussed when I met her. I fell irrationally in love with her, in this concussed state, and remained concussed until well after we parted. Benét assured me she was a schoolgirl, nothing more; she was gracious, and sweet, and pretty, to be sure, but she was not you, Charles. She would answer well enough as a wife. But after having been with you, I cannot conceive of a similar relationship with her: she and I would never be equals, never two sides of the same coin, whatever parlance you prefer. Yes, I would marry her, but it would not be the same sort of thing” – he gestured from himself to Charles – “at all. You…you are steadfast, and kind, and forgiving.” He looked away and his voice faltered. “You see through to the heart of me.”

Charles lowered his eyes in shame. “I doubted you, Edmund, I am sorry – “

“I am sorry I did not make it clearer before.” He watched Charles’ face as he looked over the harbour. Nothing was occurring in the water, to Edmund’s eyes at least. But all sailors had that curious inability to think of much else besides the sea. “I almost find myself wishing you hadn’t been promoted. Then you would stay. But…Captain Summers has a certain ring to it, does it not?”

“It does.”

“How long is it now until your ship arrives?” asked Edmund, fully aware of the answer.

“A month,” Charles replied, unconvinced of Edmund’s ignorance.

Edmund loped towards the bed. “Then we have a month to pretend we are a married couple.”

A smile wound its way across Charles’ face and he pulled the curtains shut so that the wharf was out of sight. He leapt onto the bed and pulled Edmund into a kiss. He looked into blue eyes and felt that for a month, at least, everything was right with the world.

“I love you, Edmund,” he whispered.

The gentlest smile came over Edmund’s face in response. “I love you, Charles.”

The words were finally spoken. Truth, fulfilled at last, settled in their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing a sex scene. I hope it was realistic and satisfying enough. I had a hard time balancing their sexual versus romantic versus bro feelings for each other and I hope it came out well.
> 
> Also I noticed that there is little fanfic out there where these two lovely characters reciprocate the feelings AND get to achieve them. This does seem a little like wishful thinking to me, but...however unlikely it is, I just needed a happy ending for them.


End file.
